Visiting Hours
There was a faint rustling. Quiet pings and beeps in strange syncopation. The air was dry…cold. “Ooh…goose pimples,” a woman’s voice floated in from above. “Let me get you a blanket.” He felt its’ weight, concentrating first at the hip, then spreading as the nurse set to work covering him up. “That should be better,” she cooed as the blanket was tucked beneath his feet. “Dr. Adler.” This time, a man’s voice. “Dr. Adler.” Only one eye was under his control. Upon opening, his vision was a bizarre tapestry of shifting lines and blocks. The room was bright. Eventually, the shapes of various machines became recognizable, as did the recovery room nurse. The man who crouched over him now wore surgical scrubs and cap, his face was uncovered to reveal a full, bushy moustache. “I’m Dr. Martinez, the ophthalmologist.” “Hello,” Dorian managed a dry rasp. “Just wanted to let you know that aside from a few minor abrasions, your eye was in good condition. Your vision will recover completely.” “Thass good,” Dorian managed a smile before drifting again. There were moments…the bumping of the gurney…hospital intercom chatter and coded signal tones…voices around him…diagnostics…peer review…this weekend’s game. He heard it all, yet felt a thousand miles from the source. “Dr. Adler.” A woman’s voice, vaguely familiar, coaxed his eye open. Dr. Lao looked down upon him. She’d changed her scrubs for a burgundy blouse beneath the lab coat. “The operation was a complete success.” “Thank…he rasped. A straw was pressed to his lips. Dorian sucked in a mouthful of wonderfully cool water. He took a moment, rolling it about his tongue as he might a shot of fine whiskey. After swallowing, his voice was improved as he said “Thank yah, doctah.” Lao grinned. “Not this operation,” she said. “The one your nun and deckhand performed. I won’t bother you with the details now, but Dr. Martinez and I didn’t have a great deal to revisit.” As Dorian lifted a hand to his temple, she volunteered, “No scar. We used the tissue regen to close. You’ll wear an eye patch for a week or so to complete the eye’s healing, but all in all, you should recover fully.” “Capital,” Dorian replied tiredly. “When can Ah leave?” “Two…three days,” the surgeon answered. “Martinez wants to run a couple optic nerve tests after you’ve had some rest.” “Well, Ah appreciate tha good news, doctah.” Lao nodded. “I’ll check on you again tomorrow. Now, you’ve already got a visitor, but understand that you need plenty of rest. Goodbye for now,” she said as his chart landed in a bin at the bed’s foot. “Be sure to let him sleep,” he heard her voice admonishing whoever it was might’ve come calling. “I promise.” He knew the voice in an instant. That voice had brought him fire, blood, pain and vengeance. Through that voice he’d tasted death, a sense of family, and the skills to eventually shape him. Now, that voice held an entirely new sway over his destiny. “Dorian,” Marisol couldn’t hide the concern furrowing her brow, “you scared all hell out of me.”